His Girl On Fire
by mistress-autumn
Summary: When 74th Hunger Games Victor Katniss Everdeen is purchased by the Mellarks, she thought they saved her from a fate worse than death. But she was wrong. She wasn't the one who needed saving. It was them. It was him. CatoxKatniss. AU. Rated M.
1. Glimpse

_**His Girl On Fire **__by mistressautumn_

_Note: A story in which Cato and Peeta are brothers, sons of a rich Capitol businessman. This fic will share very little similarity to the books, so technically I think it still falls under an alternate universe. If any situations/names/roles have a likeness to what we've already seen in the trilogy, then I've decided not to change them just because I think it fits (that or I was lazy). That said: _

_Reviews are appreciated but not required and flames will be used for barbeque;_

_I don't own the story and am borrowing from Suzanne Collins;_

_An early apology for lapses in grammar and spelling – it's been a while since I last tried to write anything and;_

_I'm not satisfied with the beginning but hey, it's posted already so I guess we both just have to deal._

_Now, off with the story._

* * *

_**Chapter One: Glimpse**_

_Those were not his eyes. The rest of the face, the hair, the body even, were all his, but not those eyes. His eyes were blue like cloudless sky or sparkling ocean, the color inherited from his Mother. Not this, definitely not this: black and hollow like cave entrances ready to swallow him whole, with no way back out, as he yet again found himself sinking into the depths of another one of his _episodes_._

_He was usually aware when he was about to go under. He recognized that slow pull as he very languidly lost control of his limbs, his thoughts. The pull took its time, coursing through his bloodstream like poison, and the ending was always the same. He snapped, trapped in a shiny, destructive, unreasonable rage that recognized nothing and no one._

_And as he completed his transformation into a madman, the image of himself he had been staring at for the longest time cracked, then broke into a million shards as his fist collided with the mirror before him over and over again. _

The Mellark Mansion was brought to life by the screaming of a young man. Lights turned on, bodies forced out of bed to attend to the Master of the house, as was their duty. There were two doctors, four male nurses, and the head Butler. Still wearing their sleeping clothes, they nearly collided with one another as they assembled in front of an ornately designed wooden double door where the shouting was coming from.

There were no words; they were unnecessary. As one, they entered a ransacked room with the butler on the lead. Their faces did not register any surprise at what they saw as they went in, because it was almost always the same scene of destruction – there was always broken glass, wood, furniture, torn sheets and ravaged canvas. And blood, lots of blood. There was always blood.

"Young Master…" the head Butler named Beetee adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose as he spoke in a shaky voice, calling out to a screaming blonde. However, the shouting did not cease. He had to call out a second time, this time properly.

"Peeta?"

It did the trick, although the reaction was a little delayed as though it took a while before his voice reached its destination. There were several seconds before he turned to the newcomers abruptly, and as he did, Peeta Mellark glared at all of them, chest heaving and breathing ragged. His usual handsome face was contorted by meaningless anger, eyes blackest of blacks. It was a scary sight to behold, and there was a long moment of pause where no one moved, not even breathed – and then a new wave of screaming began as the wooden table in the middle of the room was upturned, its contents spilling to the floor.

And that was where chaos ensued, all nurses positioning themselves around Peeta to pin him down, stop him from inflicting damage upon himself. It was difficult though, trying to get a hold of a deranged man without hurting him yourself, and as the poor nurses wrestled and chased Peeta around, somewhere along the way someone must have stepped on the television remote because suddenly, the wide screen TV to be found at the far wall turned itself on.

_"Stop!"_

The reaction to this word was instantaneous, and for some absurd reason even though no one in the room recognized the voice that said it, all of them froze to follow the command. Everyone's attention and eyes went toward the TV and they found themselves watching the live airing of the current happenings of the 74th Hunger Games.

_"Rue! No!"_

Onscreen was a girl. What happened next was a blur of limbs and movement – the girl loaded an arrow onto her bow and shot a boy, before she was dropping her weapon to the ground and kneeling beside another much younger girl who had a spear on her stomach. The rest of what happened next was lost upon the doctors, the nurses, and Beetee the Butler though. They weren't watching the Games anymore.

Instead, they were looking at Peeta who had stopped resisting, who had completely stopped moving and was now just watching the scene playing out on the screen with a sort of confused fascination.

Beetee opened his mouth to speak, but one of the doctors raised a hand to stop him. After a few seconds, he signalled for them to back out and leave the room, and very slowly, they retreated and watched from the doorway, a good distance away and out of earshot.

"He stopped," one of the nurses said softly after a long while of silence, still looking at Peeta with an expression of disbelief on his face. "He heard that girl and just _stopped_."And at this, another nurse laughed a little. "So did all of us," he pointed out. But before anyone else could make any further comments, the same doctor who had ordered all of them out spoke up.

"I want the TV turned on 24 hours and on the Games only." He told Beetee, before turning to his co-doctor. Their eyes met, and there was an understanding there. Slightly confused and a little left out, the butler stepped forward. "Dr. Odair? What is it?" Beetee asked. The male doctor named Finnick Odair flashed a charming smile at the nervous looking butler and patted him on the shoulder reassuringly.

"We're just about to find out, but from my point of view things are looking good."

Peeta watched the Hunger Games for the rest of the evening as if no mental episode ever happened, black eyes slowly melting back to blue.

* * *

_Note: Finally, that's done. I personally think starting a story is the hardest and know I almost never am satisfied with the beginnings I create, but thankfully you've tolerated it enough to have come this far. Also, I've made Finnick a doctor – I don't know why, but oh well. Thanks for reading :) _


	2. The Past, the Present

_Note: So here's chapter two. Don't get all spoiled now though, I'm just off work so I am able to write. If only things like these can be done for a living – the world of fandom would be happy and content and I could do this all the time. Er, anyway –_

_Enjoy reading._

* * *

**_Chapter Two: The Past, the Present_**

Her entire body shook. Every muscle under her layers of skin quivered. No matter how tightly she curled up, embracing herself around the midsection in an attempt to get herself together physically, she simply could not stop. She couldn't even cry, could not utter a single word, had lost the capacity to breathe properly. She, who had killed so many during the Hunger Games, was at that moment not capable of anything but trembling.

"_I can't do that, I just can't… I'd rather kill myself!"_

"_And what good will that do?!" Haymitch Abernathy's drunken slur was outraged. "You think your family's going to be safe? You think when you're dead they're going to live happily ever after?" He loomed over her, red faced because of the alcohol he'd consumed and his anger both. "Well wake up! That's not going to happen! You wanted to win, you won!"_

_She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. She only watched as Haymitch threw the bottle he was holding somewhere over her head, sending liquid and glass everywhere to the sound of a tinkling smash. "And this is it, this is you winning sweetheart!"_

She sobbed, but there were no tears, just an endless gasping for air as she tried to desperately get oxygen back into her lungs. How, how could she have wished to survive the Games? Had she known what she knew now, she would have offered herself to the nearest Tribute the moment the bloodbath began, begging to be murdered. For certainly, death was better than this.

"_You'll be sold to the highest bidder like a piece of fucking furniture every other night!" Haymitch was being oh so cruel by telling her this, and yet she could not help but listen to him, listen to what would become of her life. The intoxicated man continued, furious but at what or who she had no idea. "Oh my, they'll make money off you, lots of money, with a pretty face like yours."_

_He fell on his knees, and although he was not crying, this was probably the closest he would ever be to it. "But you're not going to run, you won't be able to. You're not like the rest of us. You're not like me!"_

But how she wanted to just be like them, all of them; just sink into addiction, an escape that did not require her to die, not quickly anyway. How she so easily passed judgement on Haymitch for never being sober, for being so grossly addicted to liquor, for wanting nothing else out of his life after the Hunger Games. Now she knew.

_Please, anything but this._

"I'm sorry…" it was an apology to Haymitch, an apology she would never say to him aloud. And at long last she was crying, her broken sobs sending violent tremors on her limbs as the news of what was to come finally sank in completely, painfully, in her. "I'm so sorry…" But it was a done deal. No amount of crying could change her fate, and eventually her sobs lulled her to a restless sleep she hoped she would never awake from.

For after tonight, Katniss Everdeen, Victor of the 74th Hunger Games, was going to become a whore.

* * *

The last thing Cato Mellark needed in the middle of foreplay was a fucking phone call.

"Turn it off," the pretty blonde turned to him from his position between her legs, emerald eyes unfocused as though she wasn't really there with him. He smirked in a self-satisfied manner, this was perfectly understandable. He could do out of this world wonders with his mouth down there. And more. "Please just turn it off."

He sighed quietly to himself. That was what he really wanted to do, to be honest – turn the damned device off and continue with what he was doing. After all, he was revved up and ready to go; wanting nothing more but to release an entire night's worth of sexual tension he'd so artfully built with this girl. But his phone was persistent, begging as much as this girl to be answered.

The thing here was, there was a reason why he chose this distinct ringtone for the current caller: so that Cato would always know if a phone call was one he should never ignore.

"I can't love," He leaned down and placed a lingering, breathy kiss just underneath the girl's bellybutton. "I gotta go." And with that said, he stood up, winked at whoever this girl was (he'd completely forgotten her name), and had gathered his leather jacket and bike keys.

Without so much as a backward glance, Cato left. Just like that.

"This better be fucking good," He growled the moment he hit the accept button on his mobile device's screen, with more force than intended. Damn it, the girl had been delicious… but this was important. Or at least he hoped so. He stopped in front of the elevators and pressed the down button, rolling his eyes slightly as the person on the end of the line began laughing.

When he was finally answered, his cousin Marvel sounded very, _very _amused that Cato wanted nothing more but to hit him. Maybe later. "You were with a girl, weren't you?"

Cato huffed slightly as the elevator doors opened to admit him, and he walked in with a quick press of a button for the basement. "Fuck you. Just tell me what's going on." He replied moodily, his foot tapping impatiently on the floor.

There was another round of laughter before Marvel was speaking again. "Okay, of course I will but not over the phone, it's too personal. Just go to my office –"

"Wait, what? What the fuck are you still doing there?" Cato knew he was demanding for the reason his cousin had called him in the midst of a crucial moment, but just had to react. Marvel was still in Mellark Tower and it was – he glanced at this watch – two am in the morning! "I won't be alone in that building at this hour, we grew up hearing ghost stories about the place man! I'm not going there!"

This time the laughter on the other end did not stop for a long time, and Cato just fumed as he finally reached the basement. Yeah, he was decided. He would hit Marvel later. A lot, until he bled or until his face became unrecognizable, whichever came first. They were best friends as much as blood relatives that there was very little chance Marvel would not forgive him after he was through bashing his face in.

"Oh Cato, you are such a girl! Do you seriously still believe in those urban legends?" Marvel sounded like he was trying to catch his breath, and Cato rolled his eyes as he stopped beside his customized motor bike, taking his leather biking gloves from his back pocket and putting them on. "Whatever. Meet me at the usual. I'm _not _going in there, 23 floors up, to your office. Never."

"Fine," Marvel relented, and he could hear papers being shuffled on the other end as his cousin prepared to go. Cato breathed a secret sigh of relief – he hated the Mellark Tower at night, those scary stories he'd heard about the place as a kid had so firmly stayed with him through the years that even as a young man of twenty he just couldn't forget them. "But you owe me, scaredy cat."

Just then, Cato smirked to himself before speaking in what would be an innocent voice.

"Don't forget to bring the girl behind you along,"

"What girl–" there was a pause, a very long one, and then this time it was Cato laughing boisterously as he swung his legs over his lovely bicycle, engine starting soon after as he got on. His beautiful ride hummed to life, loud and menacing in an empty basement parking lot.

"Fuck you, there's no one behind me!"

Cato was still smirking. "Are you sure? She's the only one there, the one with blood running down her face."

The last thing he heard before he ended the call and placed his phone in his jacket pocket was Marvel shouting a string of curses at him.

* * *

Dr. Finnick Odair had been on Peeta Mellark's case since it began almost three years ago. The boy had been only fourteen. He could still remember being introduced to the family that first day, not that the Mellarks could even be called that anymore. After Mrs. Mellark's murder, the remaining members – a father and two sons – became strangers to one another despite sharing a family name.

It was Dr. Odair's job to help the younger Mellark recover the best way he could, because it was Peeta who had been damaged the most. What everyone thought as a mere trauma though, he soon found out, turned out to be something altogether different. Peeta was not just damaged, he was _broken_ – mind raped, tortured to the brink of insanity. When that first episode happened after Dr. Odair realized the boy had been _hijacked _and as the pieces finally fell into place, he knew curing Peeta would take his entire career, if not even surpass it.

The first year had been the worst. The remaining parent, the one who was supposed to be helping Peeta the most, provided no assistance at all. Mr. Mellark learned to deal with his grief and immersed himself in the family business; and it was this year that the Mellark Group of Companies grew, expanded, and became a corporate giant.

No matter how many times Dr. Odair tried to convince him to see his son, Mr. Mellark always refused. It was not because he didn't want to, he would say each and every time. It was because he _couldn't_.

But the older brother was a different story.

Cato had been seventeen years old then. Apart from sharing Peeta's blonde hair and blue eyes, the two Mellark boys had nothing else in common – not until then, anyway. Sharing one common factor which was the loss of a parent, Cato dedicated a lot of his time helping his brother in any way he could. He helped pin Peeta down every time one of his episodes happened, brought food for him, gave him baths, and even called and met up with medical specialists and professionals that could help in Peeta's recovery. He did everything his father was supposed to be doing, everything that could help. But nothing helped.

Except _her_, if only a little, but _she _was the first one he had ever responded to in the last three years. And if _she_ was going to help Peeta's case in any way at all, then the first person who had to know was Cato.

His thoughts broke apart at the sound of his mobile phone ringing, and since Dr. Odair was driving, he just hit answer and put the phone call on speaker mode when he saw who it was. He smiled.

"Change of venue, Dr. Odair," was Marvel's first words after his initial hello, and he narrowed his eyes slightly but did not ask why, merely waited as he continued driving. "It's a coffee shop we frequent. I'll send directions to your phone – Cato's going to meet us there."

"All right then, I'll see you in a few minutes." Dr. Odair replied and was just about to end the call when Marvel spoke again, an edge of worry in his voice. "You're positive about this, right doc? I mean… I don't want Cato to get his hopes up for nothing. He's been through so much."

The doctor's expression softened at this, because it was true. Cato had been through _a lot_, and only a few people really realized it. This cousin, one of few who was very close to not just the older Mellark but also Peeta himself, was one of them. "Don't worry, Marvel. I am quite positive. We're not meeting at the ungodly hours of dawn for nothing." His phone beeped, signalling he'd just received a message – directions. He downloaded it on the GPS application on his phone and began following the directions it told him to.

"Does he know about me being present?"

"Nope, he'll know when he gets there. Don't want him to get into an accident. He'll drive that motor bike of his like a maniac if he finds out this entire meet up is about Peeta," there was a sad note in Marvel's voice as he spoke. "Let's break it to him gently. As I said, I don't want to get his hopes up, not much anyway." There was a long, meaningful pause before Marvel was speaking again. "See you in a minute then, doc."

"See you."

He hung up and continued driving, glancing momentarily at the binder sitting on the passenger seat beside him, rather fondly. In the last three years, this was the first file he would be giving Cato that actually contained something useful in the long run. It was time to see what Cato would do with this information, discover what else he could do to bring Peeta back.

What Finnick Odair didn't know was that he was in it for a surprise.

* * *

_Note: So that was an overview of things. I can't really give away anything much yet, we'll get there eventually. I think you've got an idea where this is going to go, but who really knows? Even I don't know, I've got about a billion ideas in my head and I'm still plotting them out, whichever fits in the end I guess. Anyway, share your thoughts with me if you have any._

_P.S. Yes, since Marvel's here and has quite a role, you can guess who else is going to be._

_P.S. Again. Fuck you spaces. Don't blame me if the paragraphs just go on and on, even after the scenes change. I've edited it five times. Won't cooperate._


	3. In Motion

_Note: Thank you to both reviewers and lurkers. On with the show, that's what you're here for right?_

* * *

_**Chapter Three: In Motion**_

By the time he was done, the sun had already risen for the official start of a brand new day. What once was a dark, empty street from his view near the window was now a busy place filled with the people of the Capitol – people who were all at once familiar and bizarre in their multicoloured outfits, strange tattoos, and outrageous hair – the list was endless. Nothing in them or about them was plain or untouched. And although he grew up seeing this grandeur, for a reason he could never really explain Cato would always find these people peculiar with what they had done to themselves.

Turning away from the hustle and bustle outside that had distracted him if only for a bit, Cato directed his attention back to his two companions, laying the file he had just finished perusing atop the low, mahogany table in front of him. He glanced first at his sleeping cousin – Marvel had his mouth agape, chin resting on his chest, his breathing slow and even. He smiled a little to himself at the sight before he was finally turning to Dr. Finnick Odair – ever patient, as he had been for the past three years.

"So," Cato began, shifting in his chair for a more comfortable position. They'd been here for hours. "This girl… Katniss Everdeen, yes?" The doctor merely hummed in reply, giving a slight nod as he waited for Cato to further continue. "Peeta responds to her, to sum up the medical file you compiled."

"Yes. As he would to anyone before three years ago."

Cato laughed a little at this. "Well three years ago I wouldn't say he had ever _sponsored _a Hunger Games tribute…" he shared a smile with the doctor. "I can't believe the amount of money he spent for her. Peeta is…" Cato paused, his smile faltering a bit as he corrected himself. "_Was _the thrifty one between us. Although we had money, unlike me he's never been the one to spend them on things he thinks are useless."

Dr. Odair leaned forward, eyes twinkling. "Which is the point, Cato. You see, for the longest time Peeta has forgotten what's important and what's not. But now, he's found something that isn't completely useless _again_."

_Isn't completely useless…_

_**Water. Burn medicine. Food. A weapon. **_

"The bow and arrows," Cato stated, remembering the list of things his brother had given to Katniss Everdeen during the course of the 74th Hunger Games. "The file said it was custom made, right?" The doctor nodded and suddenly was grinning. "It is. The most expensive gift ever given to a tribute, or so the rumors say. It cost a lot to have it made from scratch, but it cost even more to send it to her. It was unbelievable – Beetee wanted to faint when he found out how much it would cost."

A soft smile lighted Cato's face at the mention of the butler. Old, reliable Beetee who had been with the family ever since he was a kid. He shook his head slightly, fondly. "Typical of Beetee," he muttered to himself, before he was looking up at Dr. Odair, all of a sudden with an air of resolve. The doctor noticed the shift, there was something decided on the smile on Cato's face now.

_Cost. Victors too, had a cost. _The word turned something on within Cato's head. "Okay. We'll have to put her in Peeta's life then, this Everdeen girl."

Dr. Odair narrowed his eyes. "How?"

Cato brought his mobile phone out of his jacket pocket. "It's time to check how much they're selling Victors nowadays." He put the phone on his ear and winked at the doctor, who narrowed his eyes as he realized what this could mean.

"You're not saying…"

Cato's lips curled into a smirk as he stood up to head outside to make a phone call. "Yeah. I'm buying her."

* * *

_Her voice was hoarse with sleep. "WHAT?!" He chuckled at this, amused by her manners – or lack thereof. No one could answer the phone like Johanna Mason. "Good morning to you too."_

_There was a pause. "What the fuck Cato?! D'you know what time it is? It's six in the morning for crying out loud! Go mess with someone else!"_

"_Just got to bed after another night of partying I assume?" There was no answer, but the call had not been ended so it meant she was giving him the chance to talk. "That's what you get for partying without your favourite cousin." There was an annoyed, almost animalistic growl on the other line and he laughed. "Okay, okay. I'm not messing with you. I need you to check on something for me."_

_There was a sigh on the line, and then some rustling before she was speaking again. "Then spill it! I haven't got all day!" Cato smirked, shaking his head – but no more games. _

"_I need to know when the 74__th__ Hunger Games Victor's bidding is going to be."_

_The pause that followed this statement was a long one. And then… "Seriously?" she blurted out. "You, Cato Mellark who have men and women begging on their knees for your attention – _you're _trying to get into the girl on fire's pants?"_

"_No. This is for Peeta."_

"_WHAT THE FUCK!" Cato winced at the cursing that followed this reaction but had to laugh aloud at Johanna's words. "You fucker, you're despicable! Don't use Peeta as an excuse you son of a bitch!"_

_Shaking his head which Cato just noticed he seemed to be doing a lot lately, he was smiling when he spoke. "I'm not. You can talk to his doctor about it. It's a lot to explain especially over the phone. But yeah. I need the date of the bidding, I need an invitation and my name on their list, I need to know who's going to be there."_

"_She's fucking expensive, I'm telling you that," On the other end of the line, Cato could hear more rustling – Johanna sounded like she was getting out of bed. "But okay if this is for Peeta, give me until noon and I'll send you a message with the details."_

"_I want to know my competition so don't forget the list of attendees."_

_Johanna snorted. "I know we're rich but she's for rent Cato, you're not gonna be able to buy her completely." And at this, Cato smirked._

"_Watch me."_

* * *

_Her braid flying behind her as she ran, bow in hand, sling of arrows on her shoulder. Her laughing at something Rue said, green eyes twinkling like stars. Her poised to shoot an arrow at an unsuspecting bird, face schooled into focus. Her curled up in a sleeping bag in a cave, tranquil looking and delicate. Her climbing a tree, hands and feet finding the right branches effortlessly. Her singing with tears running down her cheeks, cradling a dying Rue in her arms._

_Her. _

"These are amazing, young master." Beetee said softly, looking at his charge with a gentle smile on his face. He was in Peeta's special room, watching over the young man since he had free time in his hands. Canvas after canvas of paintings were displayed on the walls, hours and days and years of Peeta's hard work. But the newest set sat on the floor being dried, and all of them contained a single face.

Katniss Everdeen's.

Peeta, who was at that moment painting, did not reply to his words. Peeta hadn't been doing so, ever since three years ago. He did acknowledge others though, and he did just that to Beetee, but never long enough. A fleeting glance maybe, but that was all he spared. People had stopped being interesting to the youngest Mellark that he gave them very little attention, did not even talk to them.

The lack of response no longer fazed Beetee, really. He had come to expect it. So he kept talking, as he always did, continuing a one-sided conversation. "Ms. Katniss Everdeen has just come back to the Capitol from visiting her District, did you know young master?" Beetee was crouched on the floor, so busy with staring at the one of the paintings of the District 12 Victor that he did not see Peeta pause in his work.

Oblivious, he continued. "We'll have to watch her homecoming tonight. I'm sure you wouldn't miss it. _I _wouldn't miss it myself." Beetee moved on to the next painting, the one of Katniss laughing, doing a monologue or so he thought. "I wonder if she's wearing one of those dresses that have fire on them…"

"It doesn't matter what she's wearing."

_Beetee's heart stopped._

The poor butler looked up so fast that he actually toppled backwards, having moved too quickly while in such an unbalanced crouching position. Gaping at Peeta Mellark whose blue eyes were focused on him, he merely sat on the floor with wide-eyes, listening to the boy continue. At a loss, amazed, emotional all at once.

"Can we record tonight's show? I'd like to paint her wearing one of those fire dresses…" Peeta smiled gently at Beetee, before going back to the painting he was working on, muttering softly to himself. "Katniss in a fire dress…"

Picking himself up from the floor and wiping the tears behind his eyeglasses, Beetee quietly exited Peeta's painting room to look for a phone and call Cato.

* * *

_Note: Yeah. He speaks. Drop a review and maybe I'll update sooner deal?_


	4. Family Ties

_Note: Sorry to keep you guys waiting so very long. I've got no valid excuse really, except this stupid reason: life happened. Anyway, read on and let's hope this will still have the same feel as the earlier chapters._

P.S. This is a Catoniss story so don't expect some Peeta and Katniss loving 'kay? Just a clarification since I know there's confusion about Peeta being in the mix.

_**Chapter Four: Family Ties**_

Johanna Mason was a pretty little thing to anyone who met her for the first time. She was as dainty as a flower, beautiful and pleasing to the eyes but useless, mere decoration. However, this was only an image she portrayed to fool others. If anything, she was the most useful person to have around. She knew the latest gossip about almost anyone and anything and if they were true or not, had connections high up and down below, knew sources that had all the latest information, and could manipulate with a flirty bat of an eyelash or the hard hit of a fist. All in all, Johanna was reliable and wasn't someone to mess with.

Marvel Mellark too, was as reliable without the dirty work part. He wasn't manipulative like Johanna and only knew people he needed to know due to business or for appearance's sake, but it worked well enough because his strength lay in pulling strings. When something needed to be set in motion, through his position in the Mellark Group of Companies and using his business charm, he got things moving by starting a chain reaction until he got the desired result. He was an influential figure and knew it, knew how to use this fact to his advantage.

Cato, meanwhile, sealed deals and completed transactions. He had money and resources, two things that ensured things got done. With the success of his father's company and the money that came with it, Cato could purchase and provide anything that had a price tag or its equivalent in kind depending on the individual he was dealing with.

Over the years, he learned that Johanna's manipulation, Marvel's influence, and his money could get them anything they wanted. And since it had been a while since they discovered this and had haf much practice, getting Cato's name into Katniss Everdeen's bidding had been a piece of cake.

The only set back they encountered was that the guest list was already full. But Johanna merely sent Marvel a copy of the list for perusing and a few hours later, after making sure news about a business party he was supposed to be holding on the evening of the bidding reached its intended social climbing target, a slot on the list became available. A few brand new cars later from Cato and he was in.

"It changes venue every year, disguised as some random business convention," Johanna shared, looking from Marvel to Cato where they were all sat, in the sitting room of Marvel's office. After their small success, the girl had suggested they meet up to talk strategy. After all, Katniss Everdeen was not for sale but they were gonna buy her anyway. They needed a plan of some sort.

Sipping on her coffee, Johanna watched Cato's face from across the room as he looked at the same paper she had faxed Marvel a few hours ago. She continued with a slight smirk. "Most of the people on that list are frequenters - and Cato you have the funniest fucking face ever. Why do you look so surprised?"

The blonde looked up at her with disbelief. "And you were not when you saw the list?" he asked, eyes widening when Johanna shook her head no. "I know more than half the people here personally! I can't believe it!"

Marvel chuckled from his position, distractedly signing papers. It was still within working hours and he had a position to maintain. Looking up if only momentarily, his voice was both amused and exasperated. "Don't tell me you haven't suspected at least one or two of them? Anyone can be involved things like these."

Cato was staring down at the list still. "Well I never really cared what people got themselves into. I'm just shocked is all. Some of them surely look like they would never get into things like bidding for a Victor for some kind of personal pleasure."

Johanna scoffed, putting her coffee cup down. "Everyone's got dirt, Cato, you should know that first hand. Haven't we learned that just for being Mellarks, for example? People come to us like sheep but end up being wolves."

Marvel looked up from his stack of papers, apparently finished with the signing as he stacked them properly. "Oh come on 'Hanna, cut the boy some slack," he admonished, waving a hand as if to brush the issue away. "Besides, he's been busy with Peeta for years," He turned to Cato and spoke to him directly. "It's understandable that you haven't been digging around looking for dirt to use against our friends and business associates."

An unlady-like snort from her seat, and Cato himself had to smirk at her next words. "That's my fucking job, after all."

Marvel grinned. "So it is. But enough of all that - let's talk about Cato's game plan," he began, leaning against his seat and loosening his tie slightly. "Have you figured out what to offer to get them to sell you this Everdeen girl?"

At this question, Cato's smirk widened. "Of course."

There were a few seconds of silence where his cousins just gaped at him expectantly. "Okay... and?" Johanna prodded through gritted teeth, patience not being her strongest point.

He shrugged, placing his hands behind his head in a relaxed position. "And that's it. Just trust me when I say I'll get her. Money buys everything."

"You can't leave it at that!" Marvel exclaimed, throwing him his pen in exasperation. "What the hell is your plan?"

But Cato only grinned widely and merely shook his head, refusing to answer his cousins and just knowing with utmost certainty that there was no way in hell he was going home on bidding day without Katniss Everdeen in tow.

xoxoxoxoxo

It was strange to come back to this. In the Capitol, everything had been much more precise and vivid - all smooth planes and clean lines, outrageous outbursts of blinding color on people and places. Back here and things were rough and faded; worn out like most of its inhabitants, the black fading to gray and the white to dirty cream. Old and rusty, ready to fall apart through brute force or maybe even just sheer will.

But this, regardless of what it had (or didn't), was home; the only home she'd ever known all her life. And Katniss, so unfeeling and numb the entire ride back, was now near bursting with emotion as she stepped out of the train, stepped back into a life she could never really return to - not completely at least - marveling how little had changed, how unfair it was that she was no longer the same while everything about the scenery before her was how she left it.

No, this was not the first time she came home. The first was a couple of weeks ago, just several days after she was crowned Victor. It was mad then, what with the press capturing her each and every move but now it was a quiet homecoming - no media or a crowd waiting for her, just a heavily tinted car that was ready to bring her to her new home at the Victor's Village. And it was only now that everything was completely sinking in.

A new house, a new life... everyone around her probably thought her life was looking up, getting better. If only they knew all this winning was a sham.

"Your mom and sister are settled in at your new house now."

Katniss jumped slightly when someone spoke behind her. For a moment, stuck in a place inside her head she almost always frequented ever since the big revelation that winning didn't make your life less miserable, and she almost forgot she actually wasn't alone. Haymitch stood behind her looking slightly sober, hands deep in his pockets, looking out at the view before him as Katniss was. He continued, voice softer this time - and stern.

"I suggest, for their safety, that you don't disclose confidential information to them." Her stomach clenched, and for a quick second Haymitch's eyes met hers. "Of course." Katniss muttered. She wouldn't dream of telling her Mother or Prim - sweet, sweet Primrose, her sister and life - if it meant they would be in danger. It was better if they didn't have a clue, painful as it was to bear this knowledge on her own.

Haymitch nodded, turning away and gesturing toward their waiting vehicle. Without another word, she followed her mentor for a short car ride into town.

Katniss had never felt more alone.

xoxoxoxo

_Note: In the next chapter, we change Katniss Everdeen's life forever._


End file.
